Inequalities and possibilities
by Wishing4MyWonderland
Summary: The Doctor helps Rose Tyler with her homework. 9/Rose 10/Rose 11/Rose. No huge spoilers. FLUFFY. Read and Review!


A/N: No real spoilers for the new episode. This was based on the fact that he said he had all the time in the world and could go back and help, 'Rose Tyler with homework.' The plot bunnies begged to be fed. I kindly obliged. Side note: HE SAID HER NAME HUZZAH THANK GOD I EXPLODED AND SCREAMED. Review and I can relive that experience.

Disclaimer: Me? Own Doctor Who? Yeah, I wish.

He had all the time in the world, or so he said. He knew he was going to die, it was inevitable I suppose.

Which made the fact that he had a time machine extremely convenient, didn't it?

"Where to now old girl, take me where I need to go," he coaxed gently, running a hand alongside the consoles affectionately. The trustworthy switches turned themselves, shooting the TARDIS through time and space. The Doctor found himself promptly on the floor, spluttering angrily as a red bump began to appear on his head,

"What was that for?" he growled, pausing to laugh, "Actually, don't answer that."

In three brisk strides and one rather overly dramatic jump, he was at the door, anticipation biting at him. Swinging open the doors he only said one, simple thing:

"Oh."

It was not so much the location (which haunted him as well) but the person standing right in front of him.

"Wha?" uttered an extremely confused Jackie Tyler, her mouth open in a wide 'O'.

If the relief of seeing Jackie hadn't been so imminent, he might just have remembered how hard the woman slapped. His mouth as wide as her own, he began to muttered incomprehensible,

"Jackie, Jackie Tyler, why here old girl, of all places, how could you, is Rose here, no, stop thinking about her. Rose?" he whispered.

Suddenly it hit him, a hard and equally painful thought.

Rose, his precious, beautiful, stubborn Rose was gone. Lost to him forever. She was out there, somewhere, happy and well with his metacrisis, but to him she was just that: lost, and not here. A tired wave of emotion swarmed into his mind, blocking all reason and rules.

"Sorry to be insolent Ma'am," he said politely, internally wincing as his words were (as always) taken the wrong way by Jackie, "But…. What day is this?"

Her flirtatious expression dropped and- through experience- he expected a heartfelt slap. She gave him an impassive glance, answering without a beat,

"April 22, 2000," Jackie informed him with a wave of her hand, "Why d'you ask?"

2000, his mind whirled, Rose would be, what? Thirteen, fourteen? Very young, just starting to dye her perfect locks that shade of blond he was so used to. Vaguely he remembered seeing a picture of her in the flat, all toothy smiles and glistening eyes. Oh, how he missed those mischievous hazel eyes.

"Excuse me, do you know where the Tyler flat is?" he wondered aloud, mentally slapping himself. Jackie shifted her shopping, curious and slightly defensive.

"Sure I do, why?" Jackie paused, not letting him answer the question, instead smiling, "Are you the math tutor the school sent over?"

In a moment of absolute and uncontrolled weakness, the 900 year old Time Lord did something very, very stupid.

He nodded.

Within five minutes he was standing in the doorway, cursing at himself for saying it. Oh, the little mishap had gone smoothly- he had flashed the physic paper and smiled like a gentleman and wham, there he was- but the follow through of his floundering plan, he thought, might just go horribly.

"Rose honey!" Jackie called, placing the grocery bags in the door way and inviting him in, "The tutor's here!"

The flat was achingly familiar, the walls still painted pink, everything in the same place. It even smelled the same, like dust and perfume. He had loved this place once.

Until, of course, everything went so horribly wrong.

"Oh, hi," a young voice said, leaning against the doorway with a straight face, "I'm Rose."

His throat became dry and his eyes fought tears, his mind refusing to believe what was right in front of him. There she stood, disheveled jeans and Rock Concert T-Shirt, younger and more innocent looking than she had been when he met her. Her eyes were bright and spark filled, a slow smile appearing on her lips. She didn't wear any mascara, in fact her face had no makeup whatsoever. She was foreign, different…..

But, in every way that mattered to him, exactly the same.

"You alright mister?" Rose asked, frowning as his eyes filled with moisture, "Looks like you're cryin' or somethin'."

If Time Lords could blush, his face would have been as red as the skies of Kor 20. Brushing his eyes with his tweed sleeve he smiled, laughing,

"Oh, no, sorry, allergies and all that!" he joked, his heart soaring as she smiled back, "Now Rose Tyler, what can I help you with."

Ten minutes of explanation and organization later, the two of them sat at the table with Rose's ominous math homework. She gazed down at it grimly, her face scrunched up in utter distaste. This, he observed bitterly, was the exact look she got when he had refused to wear a suit to her aunt's wedding.

"Now Miss Tyler, you say you just don't get it," he repeated slowly, savoring every second with her there. She ran a hand through her short blond hair,

"Yeah, I mean, it makes no sense. Inequalities and stuff. 'S just silly," she huffed, her answer so firm and stubborn it made him smile.

"Why is that then," he wondered. She motioned to the worksheet in front of her,

"Everything in life is there, real, certain. This just gives what it **could** be," she replied, frustrated. He took her pencil from her hands and began to sketch.

"Then don't think of it that way," he answered, idly drawing stars and planets on her paper, "think of inequalities as… possibilities."

"Possibilities?" she asked, intrigued, "how do you mean?"

Softly he began to fill in his miniature sky, coloring each star a different shade of gray. Her eyes followed his hand, darting back and forth, concentrating.

"Everything we do Rose, everything we say," he told her sincerely, still enraptured that he was even there, "Everything is a choice. We make good ones," he plugged a small number into the equation, showing the outcome as correct, "And bad ones."

He pushed the paper to her, encouraging. Slowly, painstakingly, she entered a large number, smiling as the answer was proven wrong.

"What about negative numbers, y'know, multiplying and dividing," she asked him, her eyes meeting his.

"Bad things happen Rose," he whispered, his mind reeling back to that day, that beach, the question he had never answered, "Negatives, if you will. It doesn't make us worse people," he flipped the sign; "it only changes our situation."

Soaking in every word he said, her eyes began to trail towards the problems on the page. Her hand took the pencil from his own, blissfully unaware how many times her hand would be in his, and she finished the sheet. It took only twenty minutes, his quiet voice pushing her on. Victoriously she slammed down her pencil, springing up from her chair,

"I DID IT!" she cheered, laughing, "I DID IT! I UNDERSTAND NOW!"

He stood as well, beaming down at her. Yelling happily, she flung her arms around him, holding him close to her.

For him, time froze in that exact spot.

It had been years, hundreds of years, since his pink and yellow human had done that. Years since their arms held onto each other, in victory or in mourning. For her, it had never happened. For him it had happened more times than he could count.

When time restarted, he began packing, leaving. He pushed a foot out the door, smiling back at the waving Tyler family. In a few years Jackie Tyler would lose her daughter to a man who visited the stars. A few more years, and he would lose her to Torchwood's idiocy. But until then, Rose's life was full of choices. Choices she would make that would lead her into his open arms.

Until then, he would have to settle for a possibility.

A/N: AAAAAAAAAGH I LOVE THIS IDEA TO PIECES. Sorry if it's not my usual standard, I was so excited I could hardly write. I love how this just turned into one big metaphor for his life…. Review, tell me how you liked it! No flames, please. They tend to burn.


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